


my hair-trigger love and faulty spring

by SiderumInCaelo



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Awkward Crush, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Touch-Starved, this isn't really a ship fic but it's also not gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 21:23:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12284661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiderumInCaelo/pseuds/SiderumInCaelo
Summary: “How could it be your fault?  It’s up to you whether you want someone to touch you or not; you don’t have to feel guilty about not wanting it.”“That’s not – it’s not that I don’t want you to touch me.”  Credence glances up at Newt, just for a second, and the shameburnsin him, low in his stomach.  He continues, softer, “I want it too much.”





	my hair-trigger love and faulty spring

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the darling @pyxyltheamoeba for beta'ing!
> 
> Title taken from the song "Collecting You" by the Indigo Girls.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at @siderumincaelo (main blog) or @ofdeliverancedane (Fantastic Beasts sideblog).

There are many, many new and odd things about living with Mr. Scamander – Newt, he keeps insisting Credence call him Newt – but one of the oddest, at least to Credence, is how he seems to go out of his way to touch Credence. They’re small, brief touches, just a hand on his back for a second or a shoulder brushing against his, but even so Credence can’t stop himself from noticing every single one. He’s so unused to physical contact, or at least physical contact not meant to hurt, that even after a few days his first instinct half the time is to flinch away, but underneath there’s also a desire to lean in to the touch, to turn that casual, fleeting contact into something more.

Credence does his best to do neither of those things, and tries not to think too deeply about why he wants Newt to touch him.

This works for a while, as all the other new, strange things – the constant, casual use of magic, a variety of potentially deadly creatures, taking a boat to another country, _living in a suitcase_ – prove to be effective distractions from his thoughts. But all the distractions in the world can’t help when he has a dream that for once wasn’t a nightmare, featuring a man who looked distinctly like Newt, and wakes up with a hard-on.

The overwhelming embarrassment and guilt kills the lingering arousal pretty quickly, at least, but even though it’s the middle of the night Credence can’t bear the thought of trying to go back to sleep. Instead, he gets up and leaves his room, with the intention of wandering around the different habitats.

He ends up by the mooncalves, who all appear to be sleeping quite peacefully. He sits on the ground under a nearby tree, knees pulled to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs, ankles crossed and shoulders hunched. He tries to focus on the environment around him, but his thoughts invariably stray back to his dream, and all the implications of it.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice Newt approaching until the man calls out to him. Credence is sure he startles noticeably, but Newt doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he sits down next to Credence, not quite touching but _almost_ , and Credence wishes he wasn’t hyperaware of how small the gap is between them. This proximity is the last thing Credence wants right now, especially when Newt asks, “Bad dream?”

At least it saves him from having to come up with an explanation, and it’s not entirely untrue. “Something like that. I didn’t wake you, did I?” he adds worriedly, struck by the awful thought of _what if he heard something_ –

But Newt shakes his head, saying, “No, no. I’m just a light sleeper, and I’ve gotten used to checking on the animals if I wake up in the night.”

Credence can’t think of anything to say in response, and is trying to think of a way to leave that isn’t rude, when Newt asks, “What was your dream about?”

Credence is glad he’s looking away from Newt because he can feel his face flush in response. “I’d rather not talk about it,” he manages to choke out.

“All right,” and before Credence can be relived that he’s dropping it Newt puts his hand on Credence’s shoulder, warm and solid and _there_ , and Credence can’t stop the full body shiver that runs through him.

He flinches, causing Newt’s hand to fall away, and even his guilt can’t stop him from immediately missing that contact. “You shouldn’t touch me.”

Newt doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then, in a rush, “Sorry, I didn’t mean – of course I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

He sounds apologetic, like _he’s_ the one in the wrong, and Credence wouldn’t have thought it possible but he feels even guiltier now.

“It’s not – you didn’t do anything wrong, it’s _me_ , it’s my fault.”

“How could it be your fault? It’s up to you whether you want someone to touch you or not; you don’t have to feel guilty about not wanting it.”

“That’s not – it’s not that I don’t want you to touch me.” He glances up at Newt, just for a second, and the shame _burns_ in him, low in his stomach. He continues, softer, “I want it too much.”

“I don’t – I’m sorry, Credence, I’m not sure I understand what the problem is.”

“I like it the wrong way. I like –” his voice catches, but he forces himself to say it. “I like you the wrong way.”

 _Please understand_ , he thinks, desperately, _please don’t make me say it outright_.

Apparently he does, because Newt asks, “Do you . . . do you fancy me?” Credence has never heard the word “fancy” used like that, but it’s obvious what Newt means. He nods his head jerkily and waits for Newt’s response.

“Oh, Credence, it’s all right, really, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Credence jerks his head up and stares at Newt in surprise, and in his shock he can’t stop himself from contradicting the man. “What? It’s sinful, it’s _illegal_ –”

“It’s not illegal in the wizarding world, actually. And whether it’s sinful depends on who you ask, but I can’t see how loving someone – caring for someone – could be a sin.”

All he can do is stare at Newt. He’s spent so long hating this part of himself, trying to pretend it wasn’t there, and now Newt says this. It seems unbelievable, except that Newt sounds painfully earnest. His vision blurs, and he can’t stop the tears from spilling over.

Newt says, gently, “It’s not wrong, Credence, I promise.”

Then, more tentatively, “Do you want me to hug you?”

At that, Credence lifts his head up and nods, not trusting himself to speak. Newt wraps one arm around Credence’s back, gently tugging him closer, and as Credence leans in Newt’s other arm comes up to cradle the back of his head. Credence ends up with his face against Newt’s shoulder, nose tucked into the man’s neck. Credence is twisted rather awkwardly – if he wasn’t leaning against Newt he’s sure he’d tip over – but he can’t care, not when it feels so good to have Newt touch him like this, even after he knows, so he just wraps his arms around Newt’s torso.

He feels dampness between his cheek and the crook of Newt’s neck, and realizes he’s still crying. It’s not from shame or fear, like it was just minutes before, but from sheer relief. Newt _knows_ , and everything is still fine. Maybe even better, now. Newt murmurs softly, “It’s all right Credence, you’re all right,” and rubs circles into his back with one hand, while the other strokes the hair at the nape of his neck.

After a while – Credence isn’t sure how long – his tears trail off, and he shifts a bit so he isn’t twisted quite so much, but stays leaning against Newt, not wanting to relinquish the contact yet. He wonders distantly if he’s being needy, but Newt doesn’t seem to mind, since he keeps stroking Credence’s hair.

“I had feelings for Mr. Graves, too,” he says before he can think better of it. “Or Grindelwald, I suppose. But he’s still Mr. Graves in my head.”

Newt doesn’t say anything, just hums a bit and moves his hand to stroke Credence’s back, and Credence finds he wants to keep talking. “I didn’t think he knew at the time. He never said anything about it, and kept coming back to see me. But now I think he must have known because he used it to manipulate me, to get me to do what he wanted.

“He said if I helped him he would teach me magic, let me join the wizarding world, but he didn’t need to. I would’ve done whatever he asked if it meant I could keep seeing him, even for just a few minutes at a time in alleyways.”

“You didn’t listen to him in the end, at the subway station,” Newt points out.

“I probably would have, if he hadn’t made it clear how little he cared about me once he thought the child he was looking for was Modesty.” Credence pauses, biting his lip, and when he speaks again it’s softer. “It felt like I deserved it, almost, when he hit me, like it was penance for wanting him that way.”

“Oh, Credence, no. Never. No one deserves to be hit, not unless they’re, I don’t know, threatening someone and it’s self-defense – and what you felt for him wasn’t wrong. Even though you’re both men, even though he turned out to be –”

“Evil,” Credence interjects.

“Well, yes,” Newt admits. “It’s not wrong to want affection, to care about people who are kind to you. That’s normal, that’s _good_. Grindelwald taking advantage of that is on him, not you.”

“I don’t know if I can really believe that,” Credence admits.

“It’s hard to learn – truly learn – things like that, I know,” Newt replies. “But I’ll say it as often as you need me to.”

It’s almost too much, Newt’s boundless kindness. Credence can still hear a voice whispering in the back of his head that he doesn’t deserve understanding, that Newt will grow to hate him like everyone else, that he’ll realize he’s bad and sinful and not even useful –

But it’s easier to ignore that voice when he’s leaning against Newt, in a place where no one’s ever hurt him, and though he’s tired he’s not mentally and physically exhausted like he was back at the church.

He lets his eyes drift closed, and is perfectly content to nod off until Newt gently nudges him. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed before you fall asleep on me. Not that I would mind, but I don’t think your neck would appreciate it very much.”

Newt stands and then helps Credence to his feet, which is completely unnecessary but Credence finds he likes it, all they same. He walks with Credence back to his room, even though he doesn’t have to do that either, and he pulls Credence into another hug once they get to his door.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” he says softly, right next to Credence’s ear.

“Me too,” and Credence means both that he’s glad to be there and glad – or perhaps amazed, or incredibly grateful – that Newt likes his presence.


End file.
